Fractum Fugitum
by Kodiak Bear Country
Summary: The sharing with Chaya had lingering consequences for Sheppard.[COMPLETE]
1. Default Chapter

**AN:** This is a request fic to explore an alternate outcome to the Chaya/Sheppard sharing event at the end of Sanctuary. Because of this, it's what I consider AU, but in a slight way, think of it as a bump off the canon road.

**Fractum Fugitum**

_**To Break, To Flee**_

**By M.N. Talbert**

**An Alternate Universe Story**

Power, unrelenting…I was like a tiny sailboat on a very wide sea, and being buffeted about by strong winds. I was sick with the knowledge, and overwhelmed by the waves of information rolling over my entire being.

I gasped, and heard Chaya whisper, "Spirare." Breathe…

"What's happening?" I asked; my voice strangled by circumstance.

Sharing. She was sharing with me, but it was more than I was ready for, and my body reacted against my wishes. I heard Chaya talking, and heard worry. She said, "Something is wrong…John!"

And then I couldn't hold on any longer, and was washed away…

* * *

I don't know when I woke up, or even how, but I slowly began to realize I was sitting in the pilot's seat inside my ship. It was on, and waiting, but I was staring at the view out the front window. How long I'd sat there, I didn't know, but I knew I'd better get back to Atlantis.

I went through the motions of dialing the gate, and flew home. When I shut the Jumper down, and opened the rear hatch, Elizabeth was waiting.

"No McKay?" I asked warily.

She shook her head gently. "I told him to go to bed," she said.

Bed? "How long was I gone?" I asked, startled.

She'd been leaning, arms folded, against the edge of the Jumper, but with my question she pushed off with her back leg, and unfolded those long arms of hers. "Six hours," she said. "I was about to send a search party."

She had a small smile, but I could sense an edge skating along the thin ice underneath. "I'm fine," I asserted. I stepped around her and into the bay, taking a second look, not quite believing that McKay wasn't lurking.

"John," she called. I stopped and looked over my shoulder at her. "I want you to check in with Carson," she said, and her tone made it clear it wasn't a request.

I was feeling the lateness of the hour, and wasn't particularly inclined to take a side trip to Beckett's little shop of horrors. I grimaced. "First thing in the morning," I said confidently. I'd learned a long time ago, if you wanted something, then act like it was a done deal. Never have a question in a statement. State it like it already was.

Apparently, Elizabeth had heard of that tactic. "Now, John."

I was holding close the fugue that had enveloped me since returning from Proculus. I wasn't even sure what had happened to me there, and I knew that Beckett would figure out my sorry lack of memory. I didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at her face, searching for some crack in her iron will, but there wasn't one. Damn.

"Fine," I said irritably. I started walking, and she quickly matched strides and moved alongside me.

"It's on the way," she explained.

Her not so subtle way of making sure I did what she said. I grunted, the only acknowledgement of her company. She knew that I knew, and that made everything just ducky, in her book at least.

* * *

Beckett was staring at me like an insect on an entomologist's stickpin. I swallowed, wishing I were anywhere but here. He took the reading from the blood pressure machine, and made a soft hmmm sound. He'd been doing that a lot since Elizabeth had left me at the double doors.

They must have slipped it to him that I was on the way; maybe McKay had been in the landing bay after all, because Beckett had a waiting gurney and exam gown when I arrived. So much for making a quick exit after Elizabeth was out of sight.

A flash of light in my left eye brought me out of my internal musing, and I blinked away the black spot obscuring my vision, only to have another bright flash in my right eye. I scowled. "I didn't hit my head," I said.

"Then why haven't you been able to tell me what happened during the last six hours?" he asked tartly.

Yeah, well…there's that. Problem is, I wish I had an answer for him, but I didn't. What I did know was that I hadn't hit my head. "I never kiss and tell," I replied.

The look on his face showed he wasn't buying it. "You're staying the night, Major," he announced. Before I could give voice to the no brewing in my throat, he had a hand up, and was saying, "Don't bother saying it. Get comfortable, I'll be back in a bit to check on you."

As he strode off, I said it anyway, just because. One thing for certain, I wasn't going to spend the night on this thin gurney. I spied one of the more comfortable long-term beds empty in the corner, and that looked like as good of a place as any, so I hopped off the one and crawled into the other, after drawing the privacy curtain.

I lay on my back for a while, arms pillowed underneath my head. The ceiling was boring, but maybe boring was what I needed. What had happened in those six hours, and why couldn't I remember? I had gone back to help Chaya, or at least I thought I did. Confusing…and somewhere in those thoughts, I must have fallen asleep, because I was soon caught up in what had to have been the worst nightmare ever.

I saw Chaya, and then a flare of the most intense white light…and then I was flying through the stars. I was everywhere, and nowhere. It was amazing, and frightening. I had no form, no body…and the universe was bare before me. I saw entire worlds fall in a heartbeat, civilizations winked out of existence, and I saw a tiny infant struggle to take its first breath…and fail. Everywhere I turned, there was more death. Everything dies, always an end, and all the voices and whispers around me watched and did nothing.

A simple thought could save a planet…an infant…but the thought never formed to fruition. Observe, and be, they wouldn't intervene. They could have prevented so much; plagues, and floods, famine and despair, and none of it mattered, all of it senseless, useless.

I cried from the injustice. I cried when the infant stopped breathing before it even began, and I cried when the baby wolf curled in it's dead mother's fur, because I knew it would die soon as well. So much death…and I cried…

* * *

I woke, and my face was wet. I swiped a hand unsteadily, trying to clear away the dampness, but before I could recover any equilibrium, Beckett was yanking the curtain back, and searching for me with concern etched across his face.

"Major?" he said uncertainly, his eyes locking on mine. "I heard…"

He didn't finish, because he saw my red-rimmed eyes. Men didn't cry. Never had a more bullshit lie ever been propagated. We did cry. We just did it in private, and what goes on behind closed doors, stayed behind them. But this wasn't behind a closed door.

"Bad dream," I said softly. I knew I didn't have to put on an act, but I'm not the poster boy for fluff and feeling, either. "Onions," I joked, pointing to my eyes. "Get me every time."

He nodded. "If you need anything…"

"I know," I said.

I watched him go, tugging the curtain closed behind him. Then I closed my eyes so tight it hurt. What the hell had I seen? It was there, _I_ was there; real, and I knew that it wasn't a bad dream. I'd experienced it…lived it, seen it. I fought against the bile crawling up my throat as I saw the infant, like a picture inside my head, and saw it die again, and again, and again...

* * *

I lifted the spoon, and took a sip. The soup had grown cold, I realized, but I kept dipping the spoon, and went through the routine of lift and sip, and back down for more. You would've thought that the contents would be gone before they had a chance to grow cold, but there you have it. Dip, and sip. Sip and dip. Routines, the manna of comfort for the burdened and the stressed.

"You got released, I take it?" spoke McKay. He sat down, sliding his own lunch tray onto the table.

I was looking at McKay, but I wasn't looking at him. I guess I was looking and not so much seeing. "This morning," I answered. Dip and sip.

He started moving his fork around his plate. Spaghetti. The sauce was dark red against the white noodles…blood red, on pale skin, as life left the body, and oh my God, it was McKay's blood, spreading out underneath him, and inching across the floor like water from an overflowing sink.

I jerked, and the spoon clattered against the dish. McKay paused, his fork loaded with twisted blood-red noodles inches from his mouth. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Just remembered I forgot to shut the water off." I practically jumped out of my seat, and retreated. I didn't know where I was going, and I didn't care.

I missed McKay peering into my bowl, and wondering why I'd been scooping up soup when there wasn't any left in the bowl.

* * *

I started walking, and I never stopped. Every step echoed with another vision. McKay dying, Elizabeth, Teyla…even Bates. I saw the death of every member of the expedition. It slammed home like a hammer on a nail, and I felt a physical blow each and every time. I saw my own death, and Jinto. Every person was dying, and the trees in Atlantis withered, and dried, their remains blowing away; gone forever, like everyone I knew. What was the point of living when all you saw was dying? I walked. I heard footsteps running behind me, but I didn't stop. I kept walking.

"Major!"

Elizabeth then. "Leave me alone," I said. I never turned, or stopped. I kept walking. But, reality was, I was running. Running from the images engraved in my mind that wouldn't stop. They wouldn't go away. "Make it stop," I tried to explain. "It has to stop."

I felt Elizabeth touch my shoulder, but I kept on walking. "Make what stop, John?"

How do you explain that you are seeing hell played out inside your skull? Your own personal hell, watching everyone, and everything die, and being helpless to stop it. I know I had a hero complex. I thought I could always do the right thing, and save the world. I'd been confronted with limitations before, but not like this.

"Death," I whispered. And I stopped walking. I stopped running. I stared at Elizabeth, and I saw her face wrinkle and wither before my eyes. Her death. "Too late." And then I was falling.

* * *

_"Will he be all right?"_

"_I don't understand what happened…"_

I heard snippets of conversation, but I kept my eyes closed. I was waking up, but I wasn't quite there yet.

_"Did he say anything to you?"_

_"He didn't look good…"_

They were talking about me. Not exactly a Sherlock Holmes leap of deduction, but considering the muddled state of my mind, I guessed I was doing pretty good.

I strained to make out more words, but I heard the voices fading away. I struggled to open my eyes then, because I didn't want to be left alone. "Don't…" I stopped and tried to swallow, my mouth was tacky and didn't want to work right "…go," I finished.

I finally succeeded in opening my eyes. McKay and Elizabeth were already walking towards me, Beckett right behind. They looked tired.

McKay spoke first. "Fine, eh?"

"Relatively," I said, rolling my head on the pillow, pulling my eyes off them and finding something innocuous to watch above me. "Your area of expertise," I pointed out.

"Relativity and relatively aren't the same thing, Major." McKay didn't look amused, I realized, as I let my head drift back to watch them. The ceiling was boring, and besides, I kept seeing faces…dying faces on the bland tiles.

"Close enough," I murmured.

McKay stared at me, then looked over his shoulder at Beckett. "Are you sure he's okay?" he asked. "Because those two words aren't even close to the same on my planet."

"Rodney, I think Major Sheppard is pulling your leg," said Carson.

"Easier than taking candy from a baby," I whispered. I really needed some water.

Elizabeth slipped a slender arm under my back, and helped me struggle into a sitting position, but I wound up more or less listing towards her on my elbow. "Here, John." She handed me a glass of water, which I drank greedily.

"Thanks," I said, and let myself fall back against the bed.

She took the cup and sat it down on one of those metal trays on wheels, and then I could tell she was sizing me up. "How do you feel?" she finally asked.

I lifted a hand, and rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the headache that was causing more than my fair share of discomfort. How did I feel?

"Sick," I answered honestly, because I did. Maybe the dead people were all fevered hallucinations. I looked over at Beckett. "Do I have a fever?"

"Not really," said Carson, watching me with curiosity. "You feel sick? Like your stomach, Major? Or, head cold kind of sick?"

I didn't know what to say. He was waiting, and so were McKay and Weir, and all three were watching me with that overly scrutinizing look. How do you explain that you don't feel right inside? That you're seeing things that aren't there, and they're scaring the hell out of you?

I guess I wasn't ready to face up to the implications, because I wussed out. That's not a pretty word for it, but I've always been one for telling it like it is. "Head cold," I said. "Or something."

There wasn't a lot of belief going around the room, but no one argued or pushed me on the fine details. Beckett took the initiative, and said, "Your tests came back fine, but you'll be my guest for another night." Carson turned to Elizabeth. "I want him taken off the duty roster for now."

Elizabeth waited, and I think she expected me to object, and when I didn't, the skepticism and worry rose a notch in the room. I wanted to, and in a way, I kind of wondered why I didn't. Finally, she nodded, "Consider it done."

I made an obvious motion of scrunching downward, into the blanket. As much as I hadn't wanted to be alone before, now I craved it. They were talking about me like I wasn't here, and I didn't like the topic of conversation. Grounded, and I wasn't even offering up a protest.

Beckett and Weir took the hint; a soft pat on my shoulder from Elizabeth, and a "Feel better," before she left. Beckett reminded me that he was in his office, and if I needed anything to give a shout. Then they were gone, but Rodney wasn't.

I shifted purposefully again, watching him, and waiting. He stared back, nonplussed. In fact, he pulled up a chair and sat down. "Care to explain that little show you just put on, Major?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I protested. I stopped watching him, and found that annoying speck on the ceiling tile again, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze.

I felt my bed shake, and glanced down to see McKay's dirty boots propped on my bed, beside my knee. I glared at him, and realized he got what he wanted, which was my attention back on him. "You're not sick, and as bad as you are with directions, you're even worse with lying, so out with it," he said. "I'm not leaving until you do."

I was looking at him now, so he got that much right, but what I saw made me swallow again, trying to keep my stomach from crawling up my throat. He was lying on a darkened metal floor, and the pool of blood was flowing out of him at a rate that signaled the fatality of the injury. A body didn't lose blood at that rate and live.

I closed my eyes against the sight. "I see dead people," I admitted quietly.

I heard McKay snort, and my bed moved as his body jerked from his laughter. "Very funny," he said, but then his laughter stilled, as he realized I wasn't smiling. His feet dropped to the floor with a thud, and I heard him lean forward. I forced my eyes open again, and this time it was only to see the live McKay leaning towards me. "You're serious?" he exclaimed.

I had barely time to nod, before he continued. His face had fallen, and now he was muttering, "Oh, this can't be good…people don't just see dead people." He stood, and started pacing. "That's a bad sign, Major. A really bad sign."

He stopped pacing and asked, "Why didn't you tell Carson?"

"Because it's a bad sign," I said dryly.

He lifted his eyebrows. "Good point." I could see the mental wheels turning, so it didn't surprise me when he asked, " Exactly what dead people are you seeing?"

"Everybody," I admitted. "Elizabeth, Beckett…you." I wondered how much to say, or even how to explain it to him. I saw a world I'd never been to explode in a cataclysmic ball of fire, spewing debris outward. I felt myself rocked by the shockwave in space, but I was the space…and the stars. I watched a flower break through the ground, and the tender shoot stretch to the heavens, only to shrivel against the chill, and wilt to the dirt. Watched the cycle of decay break down what it was, so it could become something else.

I suppose I'd been quiet to long, because McKay was standing uneasily beside me. "How?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "But I need your help."

I could tell I'd taken McKay by surprise. I don't know why, it isn't like he hasn't asked me for help before; of course, we both knew how badly that turned out.

I could tell he was debating whether to call Beckett back, but he finally asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"Research, but don't let anyone know why," I said. I knew that once the cat was out of the bag I'd be stuck in the infirmary. I hadn't cracked. I knew I wasn't nuts, so there had to be some explanation for what was happening. "Look for any information related to…"

"…seeing dead people?" he finished for me.

Why did it sound so bad coming from someone else? "Yes," I replied. "Exactly." He started to leave, but I called to him, "McKay?"

He paused, waiting for me to say what I had to say. "Thanks," I said. He nodded, and left. Lost in this screwed up world of mine, it was a relief to know I could count on McKay to help me through this. Now I just had to figure out how to keep this from Beckett as long as possible…

* * *

I must have fallen asleep because I was disembodied, soaring through the ether, and then I was watching…I didn't know the world I was on, but it was a special event. There was a crowd, and laughter. Kids ran around, screaming and shouting with delight, throwing toys and playing games. Adults were talking, and dancing. Alien music played, and decorations whipped in the breeze. A beautiful sunny day, and the world was alive with the promise of the future. I smiled, and thrilled with the enjoyment of those around me, almost dancing with the rhythm.

At first, the shadow creeping along the ground went undetected, but then a child at the edge took notice, and stilled in his play. He watched the shadow creep slowly across the field, touching first his toes, then his legs, before his whole body was in the shadow. He turned to his friends, and now the music died, a protracted last discordant note sounding a funeral cry. Eyes riveted to the sky to watch the hulking monstrosity move overhead. At first, I knew they watched in a mixture of wonder, and awe. There were some worried looks, but shock hadn't allowed thought to present fear…not yet. But when the lasers began raining down from the underbelly of the giant, friends and family began to fall. Cut down, their bodies hewn by excited particles, a bloodless death, because the power was so great it cauterized the sliced flesh as it moved through, killing.

I screamed along with the people. I raised my eyes and saw the others…they were there, watching. Always watching. Why don't they stop this? "This is wrong!" I shouted angrily. The tears ran down my face that wasn't even there. How can a soul not cry out at so much death? I stumbled through the bodies. The children, who moments before had rambled and jumped, now lay still, eyes staring at nothing every again.

"It's the natural order of life."

I heard the voice but it wasn't coming from anywhere; it was just there.

"It's not _natural_ for children to be slain," I protested angrily.

"Everything dies, Major Sheppard."

I tried to calm down, but it was hard, walking among the bodies- children, adults, and crushed petals, all smoking and ruined. "Being killed isn't dying," I argued.

"Death is the same, regardless."

I didn't know who I was arguing with. I wanted to make them feel the outrage, the hurt…the horror of what I felt. "It's not the same," I stressed instead, head bowed, as I walked past a beautiful girl, her blonde hair splayed on the ground. A blue ribbon was half burnt beside her body, and I would've thought she was sleeping if it weren't for the fact that there was a thin line down her middle, and I knew if I kicked the body, it'd separate at the line. Even though I knew I wasn't there, it was too much. I started gagging, and felt my insides lurch.

In the blink of an eye, and the age of a lifetime, I was back in my body, and quickly rolling to the side, retching. Somewhere during losing my breakfast, and then lunch, Beckett came in, and a nurse followed. I heard comforting murmurs, and a cold cloth was pressed against my forehead as I continued to hang over the edge, not quite certain it was okay to lay back.

Finally, I let them push me back, and I put a shaky hand to take over holding the cold rag on my head. I was clammy, and felt sick. Beckett seemed startled by the events. I suppose his disbelief in my earlier assertion at being ill was to blame. He hadn't expected me to actually _be_ sick. He didn't know it was what I was seeing that was doing it to me. I don't know that it would do any good, even if he did know, so I let him come to his own assumptions.

I heard him talking to the nurse to run some blood work, and then he turned to me and asked what I'd eaten lately. Food poisoning. Maybe it was a good thing to let him think that was the culprit. "Some kind of soup," I told him.

He wrote it down. "What about breakfast?"

"Ate it here," I said. Kind of wondered why he didn't remember that.

He frowned at me. "I know that. _What_ did you eat?"

Oh. Now I felt stupid. I'd gotten a choice of two different breakfast meals. I'd chosen the egg and sausage omelet that had tasted more like reconstituted eggs and cardboard. Funny, but the cliché about hospital food was a cliché for a reason; it was always true. "Egg and sausage omelet," I provided.

He wrote down some more. The nurse was back with a tray filled with needles and empty tubes waiting for blood. I sighed, more because I really wanted to be left alone, and partially because I was seeing her with a big hole in her head. Beckett mistook my sigh as one of frustration.

"We'll be just a minute, and then you can rest, Major."

I nodded, but I wanted to say rest was the last thing I wanted. I prayed I never fell asleep again. I couldn't go through that again. I just couldn't…


	2. 2

I watched as Beckett read over the test results. He looked disgruntled, but then again, that was what McKay and I had jokingly referred to as his normal resting state. Although, maybe this was on the higher end of disgruntled…possibly edging into annoyed.

"You can go," he finally said, looking at me warily, and tucking the chart against his chest.

I was trying to keep from swinging my legs, sitting patiently on the gurney. "Good," I said with forced enthusiasm.

I'd figured that would be the outcome, or maybe I should amend it to; I was _relieved_ that was the outcome. It'd been hard feigning sleep last night, especially when it was what everyone was trying to get me to do.

He was staring at me closely, trying to find any chip in my healthy veneer. I must have passed inspection because he pulled back, and sighed, "Anything else troubles you, you know where to find me."

"I do," I agreed solemnly. "Thanks." I tried to put on a brave face, but it was hard, because the death for Beckett wasn't going to be a kind one. I only hoped when the moment came, it was quick. I smiled weakly, and left before I changed my mind and grabbed him in a bear hug, just because he was still here, and still alive. Besides, I had another Doctor to see, and I hoped he'd have the answers I needed.

* * *

I left the infirmary, and headed for McKay's lab. I prayed he was there, because I wanted to minimize the number of personnel I ran into. It was disconcerting to look at friends, and acquaintances, and see their demise painted like a picture over their currently living bodies.

I started playing a guessing game of the official cause of death. Some of them were easy, and what worried me a lot, was that a great number of them were obviously killed by the Wraith. The telltale withered features, and gory handprint carved into flesh. It made me wonder if something catastrophic was in our immediate future.

I paused outside McKay's door. Of all the death's I'd seen, his bothered me the most. It wasn't just because he was my friend; there was that, but the fact that someone had killed him…or something. And that meant I hadn't been there to prevent it, or I'd been unable to. I wondered if seeing it might help me prevent it, but what if I hadn't been able to save McKay because I was already dead? Suddenly I had an intense urge to find a mirror.

The door opened, and Rodney walked out, all but mowing me down in the process because I'd been moments away from walking in. He startled, but recovered, and stepped to the side, letting the door slide shut. "Good, I was looking for you," he said.

"Tell me you found something?" I asked.

Did you know that blood is one of the most neutral compounds in nature? Funny what you remember, and when. The mind has triggers, and a picture, sound, or smell can bring it to the front. And watching McKay's blood empty from his body brought a lot of weird memories to mind, but I was using it to my advantage. I was looking, and memorizing everything about it, from the angle his body was on the floor, to the area on his back where the damage must have been done. I even tried to note every detail of his uniform. He was missing his vest…

"I found something," said McKay. "But unless you're interested in the funeral practices of the Ancients, I think you're out of luck."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "They had funeral practices?"

He looked at me like I was the slow kid in school. "Until they ascended. What did you think they did? Toss 'em over the balcony and wave so long, and sing _Fifteen Men on a Dead Man's Chest_?"

"Oh ho ho," I mumbled. So I didn't stop to think about dead Ancients, I couldn't be the only one around here guilty of the fact.

"We could always talk to Carson…"

"No!" I protested quickly. "Not yet, at any rate."

He grinned. "You could use Zelenka's bowling ball, and start working as a psychic." I could see it was taking all his self-control to keep from outright laughter. "Tell them you see their death," he waved his hands and lowered his voice, continuing spookily, "Promise them you can help them avoid the end. You'd make a _killing_!"

"You're sick," I said, groaning at the bad pun.

He put on a wounded expression. "It worked for John Edwards, and he couldn't even predict death. He's just a glorified mouth piece for all the little ghosts."

"You don't believe in that crap," I said.

He shrugged. "No, but I thought it might make you feel better."

"What part?" I asked incredulously. "The telling people how they're going to die, or the charging them for it?"

"You know what you're problem is, Major?" McKay asked. Somehow I gathered he was going to tell me. "You lack imagination."

"No, what I lack is…"

I never got to finish my beautiful insult, because just then McKay's comm beeped. He was staring at me, all but saying bring it on, but I didn't. The comm beeped again. "You going to answer that?" I pointed to his ear pleasantly. Sometimes saying nothing was better than saying something.

He kept his eyes fixed on me, and calmly tapped the button. "What?" he snapped.

"Rodney, is John with you?"

I could hear her, but I didn't have my radio on me. McKay gave me a questioning look, and I nodded.

He answered, "He's right here."

"Good," said Elizabeth. "I need you two in the briefing room immediately, we've got a situation."

McKay was still looking to me, and I shrugged my shoulders. I was getting used to seeing the dead visages of people. I could do my job, for now. He tapped it again, "We'll be right there."

* * *

What Elizabeth had to say wasn't good. One of our allies was under attack, but oddly enough, it wasn't from the Wraith. The Thessians had messaged an hour ago, at least one of them had. Great ships had arrived, and were killing everyone.

She played back the tape, and behind the panicked shout for help, we could hear a steady thrum of power. I didn't like what I was hearing. "Did we try to reconnect?" I asked.

She nodded, and turned off the audio playback. "The gate established, but there was no response."

"Then what's the point of going?" asked McKay. "If they're all dead, we'll only be risking our own lives."

Teyla had been quiet, listening to the tape, but I'd seen her upset before. She'd introduced us to the Thessians, and had friends among the people. I knew she'd have something to say to that, and I wasn't disappointed.

"There may be survivors," she said. "And should we not find out if there is another enemy capable of wiping out an entire village?"

I frowned at the thought, but also in part because of Teyla. I didn't see her death. When I looked at her, I saw only her. What did that mean? I wasn't sure it was a good thing, or a bad thing.

Ford broke in, "I agree with Teyla. It sounded like whatever attacked them had a lot of power. Makes me nervous."

Truth be told, it made me nervous too. But for once I was with McKay. I had a bad feeling about this. I caught myself staring at Ford, and he noticed. It was distracting, seeing your second with his face blown off.

"Major, I want you to take a Jumper, that way you can go without being seen. Find out what happened there, and take Beckett," she ordered. "In case there are survivors."

I wanted to argue, and it's not like she isn't used to it coming from me, but on the other hand, I couldn't find a good reason to not go other than my gut telling me to stay the hell away from that planet.

"You got it," I said. What else could I do? Everyone was clambering out of their chairs, and heading off to prepare. Before I could leave, Elizabeth called, "John, you have a minute?"

I paused, half out of my chair. She looked bothered. I sat down, asking, "What is it?"

"I didn't want the others to know," she started, coming over to the table next to my chair. She leaned against the edge, and she folded her arms. She always does that when she's nervous. "I had Peter send a MALP through."

I narrowed my eyes, because I didn't like that she'd withheld information from my team. "And…" I said, knowing that I probably wouldn't like the reason.

She was shaking her head, and I could tell she wasn't just nervous; she was downright disturbed. "No one's alive," she said softly.

"You sure?" I asked, startled.

"Rodney rigged a MALP with a life signs detector a few weeks ago. There was nothing, John. Over five hundred people, and not a single life sign."

I swallowed. No wonder she was disturbed. "Why bring Beckett then?"

"To look at the bodies," she explained grimly. "We need to know what did this."

Great. I'd get to see more bodies, and this time, they'd be dead for real. I didn't know what to say, so I stood up, and left. She didn't call after me, or try to say something lame like it'd be okay. We both knew it wouldn't. This wasn't the Wraith, and that meant there was another enemy out there intent on slaughtering innocents. Some days were definitely worse than others…

* * *

The trip to the Thessian village was uneventful. I did a flyby, and all we saw was a lot of smoke. The display confirmed what Elizabeth had told me. There wasn't a single survivor.

McKay was sitting next to me, and he grimaced at the destruction. "Whoever they are, they're thorough," he observed.

I didn't say anything. I was beginning to notice things, and I could already feel the nausea climbing inside. I landed the Jumper, and we left the rear hatch with weapons ready, though I figured they were long gone. They'd done what they came to do.

As we left the ship, I saw the streamers. I probably went paler than a maggot's underbelly. The field was just as I remembered- decorations, the musicians stage, and the bodies.

We walked numbly through the carnage. When my foot crunched, I looked down. I'd stepped on a burnt blue ribbon, and looking down, saw the beautiful blonde haired girl. I followed the path to her middle, and saw the thin black line that betrayed the cause of death.

How can there be words for what we saw on that planet? I stood there, next to that little girl's body, and I wanted to scream at the injustice of what had happened. I wanted to shout down the heavens, because damn if I didn't know they were up there, watching, and they could have stopped this.

I fell to my knees, and my mind noted that the ground was dry. It wasn't soft like it should be, drenched by death as it was, and it almost seemed wrong that the bodies hadn't cried out with the criminal act by spilling their blood. It was _wrong_. I pulled my knife…

"Major!"

I looked up from where I was, kneeling over the little girl, and then looked down, surprised to see my knife poised to plunge into her little body. I dropped it, and fell back trying to get away.

And then McKay was there, his hands grabbing my armpits, and hauling me to my feet. "What the hell was that?" he asked angrily.

"There should be blood," I said stupidly. "Why isn't there any blood?" I kept staring at her body. I knew why there wasn't blood, logically, but it was wrong…it was all wrong. The sky should be crying tears of blood.

"Carson!"

I heard McKay holler. I looked at Rodney, tearing my eyes away from the body. "She's already dead, McKay," I explained. "Beckett can't help her."

He took my arm, and started leading me away. I let him.

"It's not for her," he said gently.

I didn't know McKay had that tone of voice. It was always rapid, or sarcastic, or focused…but gentle? I'd never really heard gentle before.

I guess I must have slipped into some kind of weird state of mind, because I was floating again. I wanted to protest; I know I hadn't fallen asleep. I'd been walking…with McKay.

But if I was here, I had a score to settle. "Why?" I asked, knowing they were listening.

"We did not do this," the voice answered.

"That's not what I meant," I shouted, or at least I was trying to shout. This not having a body thing took some getting used to. If you meant to shout, but had no mouth to yell with, was it still shouting?

"You could've stopped this!" I finished my original train of thought.

"And then what, Major Sheppard?" The voice sounded irritated. "Tell us, where should we draw the line? A civilization first, with good intentions…and then maybe a city, or a village, but then that child really deserves to live, and that animal, and the flower, and even that sun."

I was too angry to listen. "It's not like that, and you know it!"

"But it is!" the voice exclaimed. "And it's even worse than that. The civilization spared may grow up to kill all its neighbors. The child saved could be your Adolf Hitler. The flower spared; the poison that kills another."

"You feel that because we have the power, we should. It is the _exact_ opposite, because we have the power, we must not!"

I wanted to argue. I wanted to find a rebuttal that would find a flaw in their argument, but I couldn't. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. I had a moment or horrible realization that they were right, and wondered at the price of Ascension. "How can you live like this?" I finally asked.

"We watch," it answered. "We watch, and by doing so, we give them the only thing we can."

"And what's that?" I snarled. The thought of these ascended Ancients sitting by and watching horrific acts, and being able to resist intervening struck me as very cold and detached.

"Recognition and remembrance, Major. They have lived, and they have died, and we noticed. In the end, it is all anyone can ask for, and more than most ever get."

I was going to say something, but I found myself falling, back into my body.

* * *

"Major," called Beckett, flashing his penlight into my eye.

I blinked. I was here. I looked around trying to figure out where here was. The Jumper. I was sitting on the bench in the back of the Jumper, and we were flying.

"What happened?" I asked, my mind not quite with it yet.

He frowned at me. "I was hoping you could tell me," he said. "You faded on us back there."

I think the time had arrived to fess up, but now that I found myself at that point, I wasn't sure how to do it. With McKay, it'd been easy. Always blunt with him, made life simple, but with Beckett…I was a little worried he'd think I'd gone too far off the path of sanity.

"Since I got back from Proculus," I started hesitantly, "I've been seeing things."

"What kind of things?"

That's the kicker, isn't it? The kind of things…

"Dead people," I said, going with the theory of better to get it over with.

He sat back, and clicked off his penlight. "Dead people? Like wee ghosts?"

"Not _wee ghosts_," I said, giving him a dirty look. "More like you, and McKay, and everyone else I see." I left out the part about Teyla because I still wasn't sure if that was an aberration of something else.

"You're seeing us? Dead?" Now Beckett looked flummoxed.

I nodded. I could see him contemplating asking, and I decided to not give him a chance. "Forget about it, not going to do it," I told him.

The jolt of the Jumper landing signaled we'd arrived back home. The hatch to the front opened, and the three came piling out, all giving me a nervous look. Had McKay spilled the beans? I gave him a sharp look, and his guilty face spoke volumes.

"McKay…" I warned. Why bother, though. Beckett knew, and once Beckett knew, everyone knew. I remembered how he started chatting to me when I'd found him by the chair in Antarctica. He'd started spouting off about the drone, and the Stargate, and _then_ he'd asked if I had clearance.

Speaking of Beckett, I looked back to him, and said, "The infirmary."

He nodded, smiling affably. "Without a doubt," he said.

Somehow I doubted there was anything in there that could help me.

* * *

"I've been thinking," started McKay. "This all began after you returned to Proculus, right?"

"Yes," I agreed. I could definitely testify to the fact that I had never seen dead people before that. "But like I said, I don't remember what happened…"

"Exactly!" McKay crowed. "It was her."

There he was on his anti-Chaya kick. For whatever reason, McKay had something against her from the moment they'd met. True, she'd deceived everyone, but she had her reasons. The whole debacle was uncomfortable. She'd admitted to only coming to Atlantis because of me. An Ancient had a crush on me. That was kind of disturbing, almost as much as seeing dead people…

"Look, Major," McKay began. "I know you had a thing for her -"

"I don't have a thing for her!" I objected, interrupting him.

He rolled his eyes, and continued, "As I said, you had a thing for her," he looked at me, daring me to deny it again. I ground my teeth. "And you went back, now you see dead people, so maybe she gave you a little Ancient present."

Now that was ridiculous. "You telling me you think she did this intentionally?" I asked. "Like a Happy Birthday, or something?"

"More like a 'remember me' something," he supplied.

I really tried to remember, but it was blank. "I got nothing," I admitted.

Beckett had escorted me to the infirmary, and McKay had tagged along. Ford and Teyla had gone off to debrief Weir. Beckett had then proceeded to run every test he could think of, before leaving to oversee the results coming in from the lab.

And that'd left McKay trying to brainstorm an answer. The problem was, I wasn't liking the answer. I almost wished Beckett would find something in those tests, but I knew he wouldn't.

"What now?" I asked, looking for McKay to help me here. I wasn't sure of what to do. I wanted it gone, whatever it was.

McKay stood up from the chair he'd settled in earlier. "We go back," he said.

* * *

The trip back to Proculus was quick. McKay had convinced Elizabeth, and I never asked what he told her. Beckett had agreed to me going, as long as McKay did the flying.

We landed, and started towards the temple, not bothering to go in to the town. I hoped she was still there. Maybe we'd chased her back into glowy exile for another thousand years. God, I sure hoped not.

It was just as long of a walk as last time, and by the time we arrived; McKay had chalked another reason to be pissed at her. He'd had to do the hike again, and he hadn't liked it the first time.

"Oh, Athar," McKay called out sweetly. "Honey, he's home!"

I slugged McKay on the shoulder. "Knock it off," I hissed.

"Chaya!" I called. "It's John. I need to talk to you!" Boy did I hope she hadn't left.

We walked into the alcove where we'd first been introduced, and she was there, still wearing the same beautiful white dress. I couldn't help the soft smile at seeing her again. "Hi," I said.

She smiled back. "Hello, John."

"Please," McKay drawled. "We're here to save your mind, not your love life."

I threw a dirty look at McKay, but otherwise ignored him. "Could we talk?" I asked her.

She gave him an irritated look as well, but then nodded to me, and gestured to follow her through the inner sanctum. I looked back at McKay just long enough to tell him, "Stay here."

He looked dutifully insulted that I wouldn't let him come, but I saw him settle on a bench.

* * *

"Chaya," I began, once she'd led us to a wooden bench. "When I was here, last…" I stumbled about trying to explain without accusing her. "I don't…remember what happened."

She sighed, and took my hand in hers. "I know," she said.

"You know," I repeated. I hadn't expected that. "Why don't I remember?" I asked.

She looked sad. "I tried to share with you, but I didn't realize how…different you were, than the others."

I realized she was fumbling as much as I was. It surprised me. "Share?"

"It's when two of my people touch each other, in a way that you can't understand," she said. "I tried to show you, but something went wrong."

"Wrong," I said. Wrong was definitely how I would explain recent events.

I could see she did understand. She was one of them, after all, exiled or not.

"I was waiting for you, to try and fix it." She reached out, and touched my head, above my right eye.

I felt warmth spread from her fingers; I placed a hand over hers, and leaned in. I was so tired, and it was peaceful. "Rest, John," she whispered, and guided me gently till I was lying on the bench. The deaths flew through my mind, worlds, and flowers – petals fluttering in the wind. And I slept.

* * *

She was gone when I woke up. I staggered out, and found McKay snoring on his bench. I nudged him roughly, and he spluttered awake, "What?"

"She's gone," I said. I turned in a circle, looking for any sign, but there wasn't anyone here.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes, and looked up at me blearily. "Did she fix you?"

Funny, I hadn't even thought of that. I looked at McKay, and noticed that all I saw was him; no more pools of blood spreading exponentially in a circle underneath him. "I think so," I said.

"Good," he grunted. "Let's go."

I took a final look around. I supposed she was gone, probably for good this time. "Guess so," I replied.

We made the trip back, subdued. McKay didn't even complain about the distance. I guess he understood my need for quiet. She'd meant something to me, but I couldn't ever be certain that I'd done it all willingly.

He flew us home, and I let Beckett poke and prod a final time. He certified me sane, and sent me on my way. It was comforting to not see everyone's death, but also disconcerting after you've already seen it. I didn't want to go eat, because I'd seen the lady serving lunch bleeding all over my macaroni and cheese.

I decided to hide in my quarters for a while. I needed to try and figure out how to go back to normal after that. And some day, soon hopefully, I wanted to figure out why I hadn't seen anything with Teyla. My hiding didn't last long, because McKay came knocking hours later. I answered the door, and watched him walk in.

"I was trying to sleep," I said. I didn't really want to talk. I didn't want to sleep, either, but he didn't need to know that.

"Liar," he said. "I need to know something."

I didn't like the look on his face. It was the same one he had when he'd been carrying on about dead man walking when the Ancient personal shield had refused to come off.

"I'm not going to tell you," I told him. I knew what he wanted. He wanted to know how he died.

"Why not?" he said quickly. "Come on, it took me a while to get up the nerve to even ask."

I felt for him, I really did. Death hounded everybody. From the moment we were born, our clocks were winding down. "Nobody should know how they're going to die, McKay."

I thought he was going to keep arguing, but he finally nodded, and he slapped a closed fist into his other open palm. "Maybe so," he said. He turned to leave.

"McKay," I called, not wanting him to leave on that depressing note. I saw him turn to look at me expectantly. I smiled. "You were sitting on the toilet."

His jaw dropped, and I saw the flash of disbelief that quickly turned into an irritated, but appreciative smile back at me. "Liar," he said again, softly, and then he walked out.

* * *

Six weeks later… 

I was lying on the ground, winded, and sore. Another mission had gone horribly wrong. We'd been searching some local caves for clues to the location for a ZPM. In the time since Chaya had fixed whatever she'd caused, I'd watched Elizabeth die from old age, showing me the withering old face I'd seen before.

I'd been unsettled after that, feeling like something was going to happen. We'd gotten separated from Ford and Teyla when the ground shook violently. We'd hardly had time to duck for cover, before heavy rock rained down upon us.

Now, I was lying here struggling to breathe, and McKay was standing over me. I saw him strip off his vest, and try desperately to stop the bleeding on my head. I felt the salty blood trickle on the corner of my mouth, and tried to wipe it away.

"Call…for…help," I said, struggling to breathe.

Days later, I could never remember what triggered it, but the memory of McKay's broken and bleeding body slammed into me with more force than the rocks had only moments before.

I stared at him, leaning over me, and the vest was gone, just like I'd seen. I opened my mouth to tell him to move, when the ground starting twisting and yawing with increased intensity. I grabbed McKay, and pulled with everything I had left in me, as the roof came tumbling down.

I was momentarily stunned, and the unmoving body weighed heavily on my sore chest. I tried to move, but McKay was crushing me. "McKay…" I gasped, trying to push, and being ineffective.

He groaned, and it was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard in my life. He pushed himself up, stumbling a few times, before rolling to my side. He looked at me, shocked, and we both looked back. There, where we'd been only moments before was a large and long stalactite. It would have punctured his back if I hadn't yanked him when I did…and he would've bled out, just as I'd seen.

He swallowed, and I could see the shock on his face. "How did you…"

I didn't say anything. I didn't have to. He connected the dots, and gripped my shoulder, saying everything that was ever needed, "Thanks."

THE END

AN: It was intentional leaving out the reason for Teyla, and why things went so wrong with John and Chaya sharing. Yes, I know, but I wanted to leave you all with questions. It might be something I go back to in another fic, and probably a lot of you will reason through it and know why! So, just know, it was done on purpose!

Lastly, thank you Shelly for requesting this fic. It's been a wonderful fic to write!


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